Secret Service

Riki Goldstein

There are many creative ways of helping our fellow Jews without compromising their dignity. Nine hidden acts of giving that lit up lives

Tuesday, March 12, 2019

S

omeone Else’s Son

My father had come to Lakewood for a grandchild’s bar mitzvah. That morning in shul, he noticed that a young bochur standing near him had holes in his shoes. My father gave the boy $150 and told him to go buy new shoes.

A few days later, my stair carpet came loose, and I called a repairman to fix it. The worker who came was a frum, cheerful man with a foreign accent, obviously an immigrant. He looked like such an erlich person — hardworking but full of emunah.

As he worked, he told me, “A few days ago, when it was freezing outside, my son asked me for money to replace his old shoes which had holes in them. With tears in my eyes, I told him that I couldn’t afford it right now, but he should ask Hashem to send him shoes. That day, my son came home with a gorgeous, expensive new pair. He said a man in shul had given him the money for it.”

My heartbeat quickened, but I didn’t say a word. I knew my father likes to keep his anonymity. When I asked my father why he gave the boy the money, he just shrugged and said, “If my son needed new shoes, wouldn’t I buy them for him? So what if this boy was someone else’s son?”

N.L., Lakewood

Three-tiered Caring

Around ten years ago, I ran a mail campaign for a widow and her 13 children, whose husband and father, the breadwinner of the family, had passed away after a year’s illness. I can’t recall the details now, but it was a beautiful, choshuve family from a small city in Eretz Yisrael. The widow was marrying off her third child and relying on our help to do so.

Our friend, Rabbi B., who had gotten me involved, knew the members of this family and the difficulties of their life. We advertised, sent out the envelopes, and made personal visits to potential donors. The money was slowly coming in. Then one evening, a woman called and spoke to my wife. She was an acquaintance who had received the donation envelope, and she wanted to know if I knew the family in question.

“My husband has not met them, but his close friend Rabbi B. knows the situation firsthand and has verified all the details,” my wife said.

“In that case, if the need is absolutely genuine, I really want to help them,” said this lady, who was of modest means. “I have a three-tiered pearl necklace that I received as a kallah. I only need one row of pearls. I’m going to sell the rest to a jeweler and bring you the money.”